


"susurrus"

by archival_hogwash



Series: Tumblr Prompts Revisited [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - 19th Century, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Master & Commander, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 16:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11421438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archival_hogwash/pseuds/archival_hogwash
Summary: in answer to a single-word Tumblr fic prompt - "susurrus", the whispering sound of wind - i present unto y'all a RogueJedi snippet set in the Master and Commander AU that i keep blabbing about and don’t actually *write*…





	"susurrus"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MoragMacPherson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoragMacPherson/gifts).



Luke Skywalker sucked in a lungful of wind as he poked his head above decks. Somehow, even with the sharp scent of the sea breeze to cut through the heat, the ripeness of the humid air in the Gulf of Kutch never seemed to fade. The mild exertion of his climb to the ship’s deck left his lower back and underarms already drenched with sweat, and his thin shirt clung to his arms and chest like a man drowning. 

_ “How in the hell did you end up here, Skywalker,”  _ he thought bitterly as he hauled himself upright.  _ “Ah, of course! You managed to get yourself dragooned on your first whaling trip out of San Francisco and now you have to take the graveyard watch on an East Indiaman with what is almost certainly too many guns... “ _

“Looking for someone, sir?”

Luke jerked back as he whipped his head around, frantically searching for the source of the voice. 

“Sir, ah—right here, sir—sir!?” A figure about his size, wreathed in the shadow of the mainmast, raised its hand tentatively as if torn between offering a greeting or reaching out in an attempt to halt further movement on his part. 

Luke stopped, and returned the gesture as he sought to collect himself into some semblance of a dignified bearing. “Who goes there?”

The figure stepped out from beneath its cloak of shadows and into a shaft of moonlight, and for the second time in his life, Luke had to consciously remind himself to breathe. 

“Ah, good evening, Mr. Rook.” Luke inclined his head, partly out of respect and partly to conceal the evidence of what he suspected was a violent blush. 

“Mr. Skywalker! Didn’t see you there. Well, I mean, I  _ did  _ see you—more of a silhouette, really—but I didn’t recognize you. At first.”

Luke couldn’t hide the warmth in the gentle laugh that escaped him at this explanation. “That’s quite all right, Mr. Rook! I confess that I was similarly unaware of your being here, if not more so...” He shrugged and gestured at himself in exaggerated self-deprecation, a clumsy attempt at an explanation of his own. Rook snorted a laugh in response and smiled quietly back at him. 

(The answering lurch in Luke’s stomach was no doubt due to the...very calm waters...where the _ HMS Hindostan  _ had laid anchor for the night.)

“Were you looking for someone, Mr. Skywalker?”

“Oh, no! I wasn’t—I’m not looking for anyone at all. I just...” He looked out over the Arabian Sea and lost his train of thought entirely. 

(He didn’t see Rook’s smile change from one of embarrassed relief to one of unabashed fondness.)

Luke sighed, closed his eyes. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

“Indeed, sir.”

The silence between the two men—companionable, but _ ringing  _ with anticipation in a way Luke couldn’t articulate—would no doubt have stretched on for many more moments if it hadn’t been broken by a deep intake of breath. 

“I suppose I should at least try to sleep a bit before my watch,” Rook said softly. 

Luke turned back. “Before your—Mr. Rook, do you mean to tell me that you’re _ not  _ on watch at the moment?”

Rook’s eyes widened. “Well, no… It’s no trouble, I hope?” At Luke’s questioning look, he continued, “I know that we—the men, that is—aren’t strictly supposed to be on deck if we’re not under way, Mr. Skywalker, sir, but—”

“Luke.”

Rook froze in surprise. “Beg pardon?”

Luke gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’d much prefer it if you called me by my name, since…”  _ (”it’s just us two”)  _ “...well, we’re not standing on ceremony out here.”

Rook’s gaze darted to and from Luke’s face for a moment before he nodded. “Right. Ah, hm. Thank you...Luke.”

“Of course, Mr. Rook—”

“Bodhi!”

Luke paused, his mouth still open. “Um...my apologies, truly, but I’m afraid that I’m still not as familiar with the local dialects as I should be—”

“My name!” Rook took a deep breath, and the shaking in his shoulders seemed to slow as he exhaled. “It’s my name, sir. I’m Bodhi.”

“Oh.” Luke wondered if Rook—no,  _ Bodhi,  _ his name is Bodhi—may have willed his shaking away only for it to find new shoulders (his own, of course) in which to roost. 

“I don’t like to tell people my name...well, not this name, in particular. My other name, my...legal name, if you will, that one’s on all the papers, all the official documents, all the…” Bodhi stopped, as if the momentum of his speech, the force carrying his body forward, had slowed to a trickle. “But my amma calls me— _ called  _ me Bodhi, so…” He turned his head out to sea. The deep, aching pain on his face was clearly, blindingly visible by the light of the moon, and Luke felt his heart crack. 

(By some trick of his mind, Luke’s noble impulse to lay a reassuring hand on his shipmate’s shoulder melted into a vision of dark hair, freed from its queue, impossibly soft between his fingers as he poured all the comfort he could muster into the man in his embrace—)

Luke did his level best to blink the vision away (though not without a great deal of reluctance, which further confused him), and redirected his focus to the silhouetted form of Bodhi Rook, trademark queue still very much in place. He sighed again.

“Thank—” Luke coughed to clear his throat, and went on, “Thank you for telling me your name, Bodhi. It’s an… I am honored to have earned enough of your trust to merit—ah, to have—” He broke off, and growled in frustration. “I have no idea how to say this like an officer, so I’ll just… Thank you for trusting me with your name—the one you use for yourself. Means a great deal.”

Luke let out a breath he didn’t remember holding when Bodhi’s answering smile, slightly watery but unbearably fond, surfaced from beneath his grief. 

“Of course...of course, Luke.” 

The silence between the two men stretched into a crackling thread of tension, joining them at the eyes--from which neither man could bring himself to look away--and pinning them in place. Neither of them noticed the wind pick up, or heard the voice, slicing through the susurrus of air through ropes and sails, that seemed to whisper:

_ “These are your first steps…” _

**Author's Note:**

> Statements that I hope can serve as partial explanations, if not also as disclaimers: the word choice and (in certain cases) spellings are intended to be as close to period-accurate as possible. For example, the incredibly diversity of languages in the Indian subcontinent is one of LANGUAGES, and not dialects. However, Luke Skywalker is a farm boy from some US desert (death zone) territory who wanted to have a Boat Adventure™, so he doesn’t know that...
> 
> Come geek out with me on Tumblr, where I'm [archival-hogwash](archival-hogwash.tumblr.com)!


End file.
